untranslatable
by airbefore
Summary: Speak a new language so that the world will be a new world - Rumi
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**AN:** A few weeks ago, I found this list online of the top ten words relating to love, desire, and relationships that have no real English translation. The idea fascinated me so much that I was inspired to write about them. This little collection will have ten stories, one for each word on the list, that are not connected or related in any way. Fair warning, there will be some angst. Regardless, I hope you enjoy them and thanks again for all the support and love.

* * *

The ghost of his mouth haunts her. The way his lips fit between hers, how his tongue felt tracing along the seam of her mouth. Her scalp still tingles with the scrape of his blunt nails, his hands tangled in her hair even as she spun away from him, her gun a suddenly too heavy weight in her numb fingers. She thinks about the hot press of his chest when he yanked her closer, the silk of his hair against her palm. Want flares in her chest when the look he gave her that night flickers across her mind; the need in his eyes, the way he let everything they'd both been trying so hard to ignore float right on the surface for the briefest of moments.

She wants him to look at her like that again. She wants to see the heat of desire in his eyes, not the soft look of patience and sorrow. Wants to feel his mouth, his hands, his body. Wants the heady rush of lust as he claims her, his lips open and wet, his hands bruising at her hips.

She wants to kiss him.

Again.

Desperately.

The whiskey burns through her chest as she watches him dance behind the bar, sleeves rolled up and a towel tossed over one shoulder. She can't stop the smile, uses the late hour and the two drinks she's consumed as an excuse to let it break free. To let the happiness he brings to her shine. Castle catches her eye from the other end of the bar and smiles, his forearms, burnished bronze in the dim light, flexing as he pulls a beer. The head shivers at the top of the glass when he places it on the tray next to the others. Nodding to the waitress who scoops it up, he makes his way back down to her end of the bar.

"You want another?" He taps a fingers on the glossy wood next to her half empty glass.

"Actually, I should head home." She knows he can hear the regret in her tone, doesn't bother to hide it. There's so much that she wants to give him and can't but this - this she can do. "Have that meeting with Gates in the morning."

"Okay." Castle pulls the towel off his shoulder, tossing it onto the bar mat. "Brian, I'm leaving. Need anything before I go?" The bartender shakes his head and Castle gives him a weird little salute before sliding through the gap in the bar. Rolling his sleeves down, he walks around to where she sits, grabbing his jacket off the unoccupied stool next to hers. "You ready?"

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you home. It's dangerous out there," he grins, sliding the jacket up over his shoulders.

"You remember that I'm a cop, right?" Kate slides off the stool, angling her body toward him as his hand hovers at the small of her back, ushering her toward the exit. She wants to lean into him. Wants to erase the eight inches between them and feel the heat of him pressed against her.

"I would never be able to forgive myself if I let you wander these treacherous streets all by your lonesome and something happened to you. Don't make me live with that kind of guilt, Beckett."

"I'm perfectly capable of making it home on my own. I have a gun. In fact, maybe _I_ should be making sure _you _get home safely."

Castle pushes the door open with a flat palm and waves her through, his tone dipping into a well of earnest sincerity that makes her stomach flip, "Humor me, okay?"

Heaving out a put upon sigh, Kate mounts the narrow stairway ahead of him, clattering her way back up to street level. She waits for him at the top of the steps, pulling her jacket tighter as the wind whips around the corner of the building, sending her hair swirling. Emerging onto the sidewalk, Castle chuckles when he looks up from his buttons to find her spitting out the tangled ends of her hair. The wind is unrelenting and no matter how quickly she grabs at it, her hair flutters wildly around her head, lashing at her cheeks and sticking to her lips.

"Hang on," he murmurs, stepping closer.

She can't control her jump at the sudden sensation of his hands, still warm from the heat of the bar, brushing over her cheeks. Castle studiously ignores her shock and sets about gathering her hair in his hands, sweeping it off her face and pulling it back into a thick rope along her neck. His chest presses against her arm when he leans in, twisting the rope into a loose knot before tucking it into the collar of her jacket.

"There." He backs away. "That should help."

The look on his face steals her breath for a moment, warmth spilling out into her limbs when she meets his gaze. For the first time in months, she can see it. Can see everything that he's worked so hard to suppress. Want. Need. Lust. Love. It's all there, simmering in the heated pools of his eyes.

She wants to dive in.

When he looks at her like that, she wants to forget it all. All the reasons why she's waiting. Why she's asked him to wait with her. For her. She wants to stand on this street corner and declare herself whole, ready to start. Ready to finally give in to this thing that's been brewing between them for years.

Wordlessly, Castle reaches toward her and runs the back of one one finger gently over her cheek. She struggles to keep her eyes open, to stop herself from listing into his touch. The loose fabric of her slacks flaps around her legs and she shivers, tells herself that it's the wind and not the far too soft caress of his finger. Kate lets her eyes flick to his lips when he reaches the corner of her mouth, the sharp edge of his nail catching at the errant strand of hair still clinging on. The amber light from the street lamps plays over his face and she thinks she sees a hint of a smile as he tucks the hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing over the side of her neck.

Her entire body screams with the aching desire to throw herself into his arms. To run her fingers through his hair and feel the damp heat of his mouth. She craves the warmth of his body, the way he would engulf her, his broad chest and strong arms blocking out the rest of the world as he pinned her up against the cold brick wall. Her toes curl inside her shoes and she pushes up onto the balls of her feet, teetering on the edge, about to make the leap.

The raucous blast of a car alarm knocks her back, her bones shaking at the hard jolt of her heels striking the concrete. Castle jerks back, pulling his hand away and looking around with wide eyes. Her skin burns with the loss of his touch. She wants it back. Wants to rewind time and live in that moment. But the spell is broken, the jagged pieces rattling down the sidewalk, spirited away by the whistling wind.

Castle turns back to face her and she watches the shutters go back up, the fire in his eyes smothering under the heavy blanket of their reality. It's not time for this. She knows it. He knows it. But still her heart stumbles when he stuffs his balled fists into his pockets and jerks his head toward the street.

"Cab?"

Kate nods and he moves to the curb, pulling one hand out to flag down a passing taxi. She watches him, dragging her eyes over the set of his shoulders, the line of his back. Filling up the holes inside her chest with little bits of him. Allowing herself something, some little grain of hope, to get her through.

She wants to kiss him again.

She can't.

Not yet.

* * *

_**Mamihlapinatapei **_(Yagan, an indigenous language of Tierra del Fuego): The wordless yet meaningful look shared by two people who desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to start.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Just a reminder that these stories are not related. Each stands on its own.

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The elevator doors glide open and Castle pulls the silk tie, limp and damp from two hours spent in the scorching July heat, from around his neck, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. Kate's palm is sweaty against his own, her fingers slipping between his as they make their way to the loft, footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. His keys jangle when he fishes them out of his pocket, trying to open the door one handed while Kate rests heavily against his side. The door finally swings open, the cool rush of refrigerated air swirling around them. Kate sighs and lets him go, kicking her heels off and slipping away toward the bedroom. The black pumps clatter loudly against the hardwood and Castle pushes them against the wall, adding his own loafers to the pile.

He follows her, watches the hem of her dress flutter around her knees as she disappears into the bathroom. Dumping his wallet and keys on top of the dresser, Castle shucks off the suit, draping it over the back of the chair as a reminder to send it out for dry cleaning. He's fumbling with the string on his pajama pants when Kate emerges, her face scrubbed free of makeup, hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She looks so young and vulnerable and he can't help but notice how tiny she is, swimming in one of his shirts, crawling across the mattress on her hands and knees. Settling in the middle of the bed, Kate holds a hand out for him, her eyes red rimmed and swollen. Castle slides under the sheet and pulls her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her thin frame. Kate sighs when her head hits his shoulder, fingers curling into the worn cotton of his shirt.

She's been like this since they heard the news, holding onto him at every available moment. Worry breeds in his chest and he tightens his hold on her, one hand moving slowly over her back, the other rising up to tangle in her hair. Turning his head, Castle brushes his lips against her forehead, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. Damp heat drips onto his shoulder and he rolls into her, whispers soothing words into her hair as she quietly cries, his own eyes welling.

The tears gradually abate, her breath washing over his throat in a slow and steady rhythm. Kate twists her fingers into the back of his shirt, tangling her legs with his under the thin sheet.

"I thought I knew," she whispers, her throat still thick with emotion. "All these years as a cop, watching families get the news. Being the one to tell them." She pauses, shaking her head against his shoulder. "I thought I knew but I didn't."

"Didn't know what?"

"What it's like to love someone - to be so _in_ love with someone that losing them would completely wreck me. I didn't know, Castle," she runs her hand up his chest, presses her nose into the side of his neck. "Not until you."

Her body is pressed as tightly to his as it can possibly be but he tries to hold her closer, wants to pull her inside himself, keep her safe and protected.

"I watched my dad go through it," she says, her voice soft. "Watched him try to drown it. I always thought it was because he didn't want to deal with it, that it was easier for him to hide in the bottom of a bottle, but maybe it was because he _couldn't_. It was too big, too much. I think I get that now."

She takes a deep breath, her spine straightening, toes pressing hard against his ankles.

"You can't come to work with me anymore."

The words are barely more than a whisper but they explode inside the quiet room, rattling his teeth and turning his muscles to liquid. Castle tries to lean back from her, the need to see her face, to look into her eyes, tearing through him, but she holds him steady, refusing to move.

"What -"

"You can't, Castle," Kate insists cutting off his question before he even really knows what he was going to ask. "I can't - I've had this weight on my chest for the past three days. It's suffocating me. All I can think about is what if it was us? What if something happened to you? I wouldn't -" she hesitates, gulps down a frantic breath - "I would be my dad. I wouldn't be able to deal with it."

"Yes, you would." Castle grips the back of her neck, his thumb pressing into the hollow behind her ear. "You're strong; you'd survive. You'd be okay."

"I'm not saying that I couldn't live without you. But if I lost you - It wouldn't be a real life." She leans back from him finally, her hand lifting to rest on his cheek. "I almost lost myself completely when my mom died. I was sure that nothing could ever be worse than that. But you?" Kate shakes her head, fingers sliding into his hair, thumb tracing over his ear. "You can't come anymore, Castle. I can't let you."

"You think I don't feel the same way?" He stares down at her, his heart pounding with the effort to keep his voice steady. "Do you think I wouldn't be utterly devastated and broken if you died? You're a cop; I think about it every day. But it's better to be there with you, to be able to watch your back, than to sit here and wonder if you're ever going to come home."

Her chest hitches and she leans into him again, her nose brushing his throat. Castle cradles the back of her head, pressing his mouth to her temple. "Accidents happen, Kate. No one can predict or anticipate them." His other hand skims up her back, coming to rest between her shoulder blades. He can feel her heart beating against his palm, lets the steady rhythm seep into his skin. "Jenny was hit by a drunk driver at two o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon. It's tragic and unfair and heartbreaking. But we can't stop living our lives. We can't let the fear cripple us. We have to keep going. We have to be there for Kevin."

"They were trying for a baby," she murmurs, a deep mourning in her voice.

"I know." He rolls onto his back, pulling her with him. "I know."

Kate brushes her mouth over his jaw, pressing her lips to the thumping button of his pulse. A long sigh wafts over his skin as she relaxes, her body sinking down into his. "I love you," she whispers, her fingers curling into his sides. "I love you so much, Rick."

"And I love you," he responds, running his fingers gently through her hair. "More than you know."

He watches the light shift from late afternoon to night as he holds her, the yellow giving way to orange then flashing hot with red, bathing the room in a warm glow before slowly fading to black.

* * *

**Ya'aburnee **(Arabic): "You bury me." It's a declaration of one's hope that they'll die before another person, because of how difficult it would be to live without them.


	3. Chapter 3

Kate swims awake slowly, struggling against the current of exhaustion threatening to sweep her away. A bone deep ache permeates her body, her limbs heavy and tingling, muscles weak and limp. Curling her toes into the cool sheets, she breaks the surface and blinks blearily, the edges of her vision fuzzy as she looks around the shadowed room. Castle stands at the window, the yellow burn of the safety light highlighting the gentle curve of his back, the thick lines of his arms. She lets her gaze trace over his body, drinking in the sight of him. The gentle murmur of his voice filters through the darkness and she smiles, a warm rush of love surging in her chest.

"Hey."

He turns around at the rasp of her voice and she watches his face split into a wide smile, the one that makes her stomach flip and her knees turn to water. "Hey," he responds, the single word overflowing with affection. "Have a good nap?"

Kate hums. "How long was I asleep?"

"About fifteen minutes."

Her eyes track him as he steadily sways side to side, his body a hypnotizing metronome. "Castle?"

"Hmm?"

She lifts her arms, palms up and fingers waggling. "Bring me my baby."

Castle laughs and moves toward the bed, a tiny bundle of blue cradled in his arms. She watches them come closer, marveling at how small the baby is, his body dwarfed by the wide expanse of Castle's chest. Kate shifts over when they reach the bed, a gasp of pain slipping through her teeth.

"Take it easy," he admonishes her gently, holding the baby in one arm and reaching out to run a hand over her hair, his fingers bumping down the length of her ragged braid. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I'm fine." She waves a hand through the air, batting away his concerns. "Hand him over."

Chuckling lightly, Castle leans in and passes her the baby, his hands lingering over hers as she settles the warm little body against her chest. A contented sigh floats past her lips and she dips her head, dusting a kiss over the soft roundness of the baby's cheek. "I missed you," she whispers, fingers sweeping down the short length of his back. Castle gently squeezes the back of her neck and Kate looks up at him, lips tilting into a smile. "You too."

The mattress hisses when he sits down, resting on one hip and angling his body to fit next to hers on the narrow bed. He catches her lips in an achingly sweet kiss, thumb running along her jaw. "You were only asleep for fifteen minutes."

The words are a warm breeze over her lips and she tilts toward him, resting her forehead against his. "Still missed you."

Castle presses another kiss to the corner of her mouth and leans back, propping himself up on one elbow, temple resting on his closed fist. His eyes rake over her, lingering on the baby before travelling back up to her face, his free hand wrapped around her thigh. Happiness suffuses his features but she can still see the dark specter of fear and worry creeping in around the edges, dampening the light of his smile. Kate shifts her hold on the baby, dropping one hand down to cover his.

"We're okay," she assures him, hooking her fingers around his palm and rubbing the side of her thumb over the backs of his knuckles. "Everything's fine."

"I know." Castle's eyes drift closed, the smile falling off his lips. "Just - when they lost his heartbeat and then you - " His voice catches and he looks at her again, eyes rimmed with moisture. "I don't think I've ever been more terrified in my life, Kate. I thought I was going to lose both of you."

"But you didn't." Kate cants her body in his direction, ignoring the sharp twinge in her abdomen as she presses her temple against his forehead. His chest hitches when she lifts his hand off her thigh and moves it up to rest over hers on the baby's back. "We're both here and we're both okay."

Castle nods, his nose bumping into her cheek, and rubs his thumb over the back of the little knit cap covering the baby's head. A comfortable quiet settles over them and Kate lets her eyes slip closed, losing herself in the moment, reveling in the the solid feel of Castle against her side and the pleasant weight of the infant resting on her chest. Castle's lips find the angle of her jaw, feathering a series of light kisses across her skin, and she hums, her body listing more heavily into his.

"I love you."

She can feel his smile against her neck. "Love you back." The baby grunts, shifting under their joined hands, and Castle laughs, turning his head to look at the squirming bundle. "And I love you too, Zeke. Even if you did decide it'd be fun to shave ten years off my life with that entrance."

Kate nudges his stomach with her elbow, voice light and teasing. "He definitely inherited your flair for the dramatic."

"Don't say that in front of my mother unless you want her trying to sneak him into in acting classes before he can even hold his head up."

Laughing, Kate slips her hand out from under Castle's, the need to see the baby pressing hard against her ribs. She cups the back of Zeke's neck and leans her body forward, transferring his meager weight from her chest to her hands, holding back a wince as she bends her knees and settles him on the ramp of her thighs. Loosening the edges of the swaddling blanket, Kate pulls it open and runs her eyes greedily over the baby. A raging storm of emotion assaults her as she skims her hands over the tiny body, her chest so full that she feels like she might actually burst. Her fingers trace over his legs, lean and impossibly long, across his round stomach and thin chest, along the soft creases of his bent elbows. She reads the ridges of his curled fingers like braille, her heart clenching tightly as she absorbs it all, memorizing the shape and feel of him.

Her son.

_Their_ son.

Zeke whines, his lips puckering and sucking at the air, the backs of his fists thumping against her leg. Holding him steady with one hand over his stomach, Kate reaches up with the other, pulling on the snaps at the shoulder of her gown. "Let's see if we can get this to work this time, little man."

"Want me to go get the nurse?"

"No, I want to try it on my own. We'll call if I can't."

She lifts the baby to her exposed breast and Castle leans away from her, stretching his arm out to grab the support pillow the lactation specialist left with them. Sliding the pillow against her stomach, they work together to adjust Zeke into the proper position, Castle's hands warm and sure against her skin. Kate holds the baby across her body with her left arm, following the instructions the nurses have been repeating over and over since they first brought him to her twelve hours before. She can feel Castle watching her as she attempts to get the baby to latch on; finally succeeding on the fourth attempt. She gasps at the still new sensation, butterflies swarming in her stomach. Castle shifts closer to them, sliding his arm around Kate's shoulders and leaning in to watch.

"That is so amazing," he murmurs, his voice shimmering with awe.

She rubs her thumb over the shell of the baby's ear as he eats, a bright flame of all consuming love dancing wildly through her veins. Tears, hot and unexpected, spring up in her eyes and she lets them fall, the weight of it all hitting her at once.

"Kate? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She looks up at him, letting him see the truth written on her face. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just overwhelmed."

"In a good way?"

"Yeah." Kate looks back down at Zeke, her heart sticking in her throat. "I love him so much, Castle. I didn't think it was possible to love him more than I did while I was pregnant but when I saw him -" She stumbles over the words, a shuddering breath rattling her ribs. "I did. I do. So much more. It's terrifying."

"Yeah, that tends to happen."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

His lips are smooth against her cheek. "It's one of those things you have to experience on your own. As skilled as I may be with words, there's no way I could've described this to you. You just have to feel it."

Turning toward him, Kate lifts her head, kissing him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For this. For him."

The hand on her shoulder slides up to wrap around her neck as he leans in. "Thank _you_," he breathes, nudging her nose with his own. "You did all the work." He takes her mouth again, tongue gliding over her parted lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Castle drops his head to her shoulder and Kate rests her cheek against his crown, watching as he slides his palm up the length over her forearm. His fingers swirl over the back of hers before sliding into the spaces he finds, joined hands supporting the slight weight of their son.

* * *

**Koi No Yokan** (Japanese): The sense upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall into love.


	4. Chapter 4

He swings the door open, the pervading quiet sparking a sense of unease in his chest. Toeing off his shoes, Castle makes his way into the kitchen, the well travelled path familiar even in the inky black shadows of the night. He drops his keys on the island and pulls open the refrigerator door, scanning quickly over the contents. He's just had dinner with Alexis and isn't at all hungry but he looks anyway, the growing sense of dread holding him hostage in front of the humming appliance.

She said she'd wait up for him. He'd expected to come home and find her on the couch, curled up under her favorite cashmere throw with a book spread across her knees. He knows she's home, the keys and badge resting by the door confirming her location. Sighing, he grabs a bottle of water and shuts the refrigerator, the rubber seal hissing loudly in the silence.

The soft halo of the moon offers the only source of illumination in the bedroom. He can barely make out the shape of her body under the covers, her legs pulled up to her chest, hair fanned out on the pillow. Her body faces the wall and his heart plummets, landing hard in the pit of his stomach. She never sleeps with her back to him. Even when he's not in bed with her, she orients herself toward his side, arm stretched across the mattress, fingers pressed into the space where his body should be. Dropping the water on the dresser, Castle moves around to where he can see her face, finding her eyes closed, breath slipping steadily through her parted lips. Softly, he calls her name, waits impatiently for a response.

When none comes on his third try, he sighs, hands lifting to work at the buttons of his shirt. Stripping off his clothes, he stuffs them deep into the hamper before stepping into the shower. The harsh spray pounding over the back of his neck does nothing to soothe him, the heat of the water serving only to steep his worry, infusing his blood with the heavy weight of fear.

She said she'd wait up.

Castle replays the day as he dries off, sifting through the memories, desperately trying to piece it all together. He'd spent the morning with her at the precinct, distracting her with jokes and coffee while he watched her pen scratch across the stack of paperwork on her desk. Gina called at noon, summoning him to her office where he spent the rest of the afternoon being castigated for overdue chapters and even more overdue edits. He'd called her on the way to meet Alexis, his ears buzzing with the need to hear her voice. She'd listened as he complained about Gina and her minions, laughing when he enumerated the many and varied ways he'd been threatened with bodily harm. He'd spoken his love as he stepped out of the cab and waved at his daughter. She'd told him to have fun, that she'd see him when he got home.

But now -

He runs a comb through his hair and brushes his teeth, wishing she were in here with him; hip propped against the counter and a smile on her face as she teases him about his nightly ritual, calling him a metrosexual while he rubs moisturizer into his skin. She always laughs until he grabs her in a kiss, his hands cradling the back of her skull as he growls into her mouth that he's all man and she knows it. Castle stares in the mirror for a moment and shuts off the light, the rest of his routine abandoned.

The sheets are cool against his skin and he shivers slightly, stretching out, flexing his toes against the taut fabric as his mind spins frantically, jumping through hoop after hoop, landing harder and harder every time. He wants so badly to wake her, to make her talk to him. Tell him what's wrong. Rolling onto his side, Castle buries one hand under his pillow, the soft down crinkling against his ear, and shoves the other hard between his knees, anything to keep himself from reaching out to her. Everything about this - the dark, the quiet, the space - confuses and worries him but he knows tonight is not the time to push. She's closed herself off and he has to wait for an opening, a crack in the wall.

He's teetering on the edge of sleep when her voice, soft and low, shatters the silence.

"We don't talk about marriage."

The words ricochet inside his head and he struggles to catch them, to put them together in an order that he can process. Her head shifts on the pillow as she curls further into herself, protecting her heart with the curve of her spine and the cage of her ribs.

"What -" He stumbles, the half formed question sticking in his throat.

"We've been together for three years," she says, the forced calm in her tone sending shivers skittering down his spine. "I've lived here for almost two. And we never talk about it."

Castle props up on one elbow and twists, reaching behind himself to flip on the bedside lamp. He needs to see her for this. Gently, he places a hand on her shoulder, encouraged when she doesn't pull away. "Where is this coming from?"

"I've been thinking about it for awhile." Her voice is barely a whisper and he leans forward, straining to hear the words as they bounce off the wall. "Today, after Gina called, I couldn't _stop_ thinking about it."

"My relationship with her is strictly professional. I would never -"

"I'm not jealous, Castle. I like Gina." She rolls over to face him and his heart clenches when the light catches at the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. "But I just kept thinking about how you went through the whole process with her - dating, proposal, marriage, divorce - in less time than we've been together. And we don't even talk about it."

"We've talked about it," he defends weakly .

"Two conversations in three years, both of them couched in hypotheticals, don't count as talking about it, Castle."

He drops back down to the mattress, the pillow sighing under the weight of his head. Extending a hand in her direction, he rests it on the middle of the bed, fingers fanned out in a silent invitation. Kate presses her palm to his, fingers slipping into his empty spaces and folding over. He knows this is long overdue; has wanted to talk about it just as much as she apparently does. He's just never been able to find the words, to figure out a way to explain his reservations without hurting her.

"Do you want to get married?"

She answers without hesitation. "Yes. I don't mean tomorrow or next month or even next year but, yes." Her eyes are more guarded than he's seen in years and it breaks his heart to know that he's put that look on her face with his cowardice. Kate takes a deep breath, obviously steeling herself, before returning the question. "Do you want to?"

His pause is pregnant and just long enough for him to see the hurt flash across her face.

"Okay," she breathes, her voice shaky and pained, eyes slipping closed. "Okay."

"No, Kate. Listen." He tightens his fingers around hers and scoots closer, his other hand reaching out to grip her hip as she moves to roll away from him. "Just listen to me, please."

She doesn't answer. Doesn't respond in any way. He can feel her breath, warm and shallow, against the back of his hand and wants so very much to pull her into him. To hold her and make the look of utter devastation fade from her face. After a moment, he takes her silence as acquiescence and speaks, tries to find some way to explain.

"Being with you, loving you, has been the most amazing romantic experience of my life. You make me happier than I've ever been. You love me for who I am, not _what_ I am. You accept me and respect me. You've trusted me with your life and your heart. And that you want to marry me - I can't tell you what that means to me, how honored I am."

"But you don't want to marry me."

"No, I do." He presses his fingers into the flare of her hip, the urgent need to make her understand coiling tight at the base of his spine. "But I'm scared."

"Scared?" Incredulity shimmers in her eyes when she finally opens them and looks up at him. "You've been married twice."

"Exactly. I've been married twice. And divorced. You said it yourself, my entire relationship with Gina was barely longer than a breath mint. It was the same with Meredith. I rushed into it both times. For different reasons, of course, but the end results were the same." Castle drops his chin, resting his forehead against hers and lifting the hand from her hip to her cheek. "I love you so much and I know that if we got married and it fell apart, I would be shattered. Ruined."

"So would I," she says, her lips ghosting over his chin. "But you're dooming it without even trying."

"I don't want you to be my ex-wife."

"I won't be."

"I'm not good at being married, Kate. I've screwed it up twice."

She leans back, her hair rustling softly against the pillow and compassion in her eyes. Lifting her free hand, she rests it over his on her cheek, fingers hooking around his palm. "You may not have been a perfect husband but you can't lay all the blame for your divorces on yourself. It takes two people to make a marriage and two to end it."

"Or three, in the case of Meredith."

She huffs out a reluctant laugh, her eyes crinkling for just a moment before her face falls serious again. "I love you, Castle. I love what we have, what we are. I don't want to push you or have this become something that comes between us but I _do_ want to be married to you. I want that so much."

"Me too," he breathes, head moving to her pillow as he leans forward and catches her lips in a soft kiss. Kate hums into his mouth, a relieved little sound that he swallows down, letting it float around inside his chest, soothing the ache that's been tugging at his heart since he walked through the front door.

They settle in the middle of the bed, fingers untangling as he pulls her closer, tucking her body against the curve of his ribs. Her hand rests at the side of his neck, thumbnail scraping lightly along the line of his jaw. Castle reaches out and slaps at the lamp, casting the room into darkness once more. Kate presses a kiss to his chest, her lips warm and dry, and threads her leg through his, the back of his calf cradled in the delicate slope of her ankle. Her breathing evens out as he holds her, fingers combing slowly through her hair. He knows they still have a lot to talk about and a long way to go but the pressure in his chest has eased, the shadows of fear burned away by a flickering flame of hope.

* * *

**Ilunga** (Bantu): A person who is willing to forgive abuse the first time; tolerate it the second time, but never a third time.


	5. Chapter 5

She wakes up alone.

Her hand drifts to the empty pillow, fingers dipping into the canyon where his head should be. Where it was when she fell asleep. Kate sits up, pushing her hair out of her face and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, feet landing on the floor with a muted slap. His sweatshirt, worn and comfortable and rich with his scent, rests in a crumpled heap next to the nightstand. She picks it up, sliding it on over her tank top, the sleeves falling down to cover her hands. Quietly, she makes her way out of the bedroom, seeking him. Knowing she won't have to go far.

The computer screen glows brightly in the darkness, the blue light throwing his face into a mask of shadows. Castle sits behind the desk, spine rigid and hands resting motionless on either side of the keyboard, fingers curled tightly into his palms. The heavy hem of the sweatshirt whispers against the soft cotton of her yoga pants as she slips across the room, the chill of the hardwood seeping through the soles of her feet, making her toes curl and insteps arch.

The hinges of the chair squeak when she steps up behind him, her stomach resting against the cool leather as her fleece covered hands slide over his biceps. She squints at the laptop, the glare almost blinding. A blank document fills the screen, the cursor flickering steadily in the upper left corner. Kate drags her hands across his shoulders, uses the friction of his t-shirt to push the sleeves back, exposing her fingers. Gently, she glides up his neck, thumbs pressed to either side of his spine, smoothing out the hard knots. Her strokes are practiced and sure, fingers operating muscle memory; the long forged neural pathways developed over so many nights like this one.

Castle's hands unclench and his spine softens, body sinking into the soft chair. The brass studs outlining the frame bite into her stomach when he leans back and Kate slides her feet out, widening her stance and accepting the weight of him against her. His head dips forward as she digs her fingers into his shoulders and neck, a soft groan rumbling in his chest when her thumb hits a particularly stubborn knot. She's never been able to get that one to release but she works the pad of her thumb into it anyway, hard circles that leave his skin pink and warm.

His body melts under her touch, the tension slowly unspooling, and the pressure in her chest eases slightly. She can't do much for him; can't help him work it out or fix it, no matter how much she wishes she could. All she can do now is be with him. Let her presence be known and hope it's enough. Enough to get him through.

The chair creaks and she gentles her hands as he shifts, his shoulders pressing into the rounded cushion. Castle lets his neck roll, the back of his head coming to rest in the valley of her breasts. Silence, broken only by the soft whir of his computer, still blankets the room but she can feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The air is thinner. Easier to pull into her lungs, lighter in her veins. The dense fog that's been slowly smothering him - her, them - is finally lifting.

Kate skims her fingers up the sides of his neck, circling once around his ears before sliding onto his scalp. The way she's constantly drawn to his hair was something she'd never expected. Never experienced before. She's fascinated by the weight of it, the thick strands warming her perpetually cold hands; how it flows through her fingers, catching under her nails and curling over her knuckles. Craves the deep growl of arousal he lets rumble in his throat when she fists her fingers in it, nails scraping hard over his scalp as she directs his lips and tongue with the twist of her wrist. Loves how it feels against her bare skin in the middle of the night, his head nestled against her breasts, deep breaths gusting over the curve of her ribs; she's lost count of the number of times she's soothed herself to sleep with the rhythmic sweep of her fingers over his crown.

Castle sighs wearily and she looks down, finds his eyes closed, the lines around his mouth thrown into sharp relief by the glow of the laptop. She waits him out, not willing to push him tonight. This is the closest he's come to being relaxed in almost a week; she's sure as hell not going to be the one to ruin it. Her fingers continue to slide and curl through his hair and she's not entirely sure whether it's for his comfort or her own.

"It was easier before." The words are measured, weighted.

"What?" She keeps her voice quiet, lets him choose the direction he wants to take this.

"Not knowing. It was easier. Better." His hands rest in his lap, fingers toying with the loose fabric of his pajama pants. "I had so many theories. Fantasies. I didn't know so I could choose any story I wanted. That's actually one of the things that pushed me toward writing. Making up outlandish stories about who he was, what he did. Why he wasn't around."

"What was your favorite?" She needs to keep him talking. Needs to help him with this however she can.

"Astronaut," Castle chuckles, his head shaking side to side under her hands. "For about six months I was convinced he was Buzz Aldrin. I was obsessed with space and just thought it would be so cool if my dad had been to the moon. After the space stage, it was baseball player. Then cowboy. Paleontologist. Pirate. King. Whatever I was interested in at the time, that's what he was. And now -"

"It's just too ordinary?"

"No, that's not it. I was always aware that they were nothing more than stories I made up." He's quiet for a moment, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. "He _knew_, Kate. He knew and he didn't care."

"Castle -" She stumbles, the words sticking in her throat. There's nothing she can say to that. Nothing that will erase the poorly concealed pain in his voice.

"I thought up hundreds of scenarios over the years but a high school chemistry teacher, married with two kids? That one never crossed my mind." His head presses harder against her sternum, right hand lifting to curl around her forearm, thumb running slow circles over her sleeve. "And I'll never know why. Why he didn't contact us, why he didn't want me. Because this -" The letter, wrinkled and yellow with age, crunches under his hand as he swipes it off the desk, the same spot it's been in since he first read it four days ago. "This doesn't explain anything. It's just a bunch of excuses and useless platitudes."

Kate slides her left hand out of his hair and reaches across his body, covering the hand wrapped around her right arm. Loosening his grip, she laces her fingers through his, lets their flat palms come to rest on his chest. Her right hand slips back into his hair, sweeping the stubborn lock of bangs from his forehead. She hums softly, encouraging him to keep talking, to finally let it out. Everything he's been holding in for four days. For forty years.

"And the worst part - The worst part is that he'll never know what he missed." His voice trembles and her heart aches for him, for the man he is and the little boy he was. "He'll never know who I became, what I've done with my life. Not the books or the money but everything else. Alexis. You. The work we do, the man I am. I don't even know why I care. I don't need to prove anything to him."

"No, you don't," Kate says, making a conscious effort to keep her voice even. "But you did want to prove what you did _without_ him. You wanted to be able to show him everything you are and have him know that he had nothing to do with it. That you didn't need him."

Castle sits quietly for a minute and she holds her breath, desperately hoping she didn't go too far. She keeps stroking her fingers over his head, playing with the fine hair at the base of his skull, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief when he finally nods.

"Yeah. I hate it, though. It makes me feel like a child."

"It's natural, Castle. I think anyone would feel that way in this situation."

He huffs a reluctant agreement and turns his head, dusting a kiss over the back of her hand before laying his cheek on the arm she has slung across his chest.

"My father is dead," he murmurs.

Kate leans down, draping herself over the back of the chair to rest her cheek in the crook of his neck. "I know."

"He's been dead for thirty years. Why do I care?"

Pressing a soft kiss behind his ear, she whispers, "Because he was your father."

His only response is to tighten his hold on her fingers, squeezing them almost painfully between his own. They both know that there's more to say. More to process and resolve. He has two sisters who want to know him and a lifetime of pain to confront. But for now, for tonight, this is enough.

* * *

**Cafuné **(Brazilian Portuguese): The act of tenderly running your fingers through someone's hair.

* * *

**AN:** I know I'm blatantly disregarding recent spoilers with this one but I've always thought this angle was interesting and haven't really seen it explored before. Thanks so much for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun is too bright. It bounces off the angles of the buildings, blinding him from all directions. Usually, he enjoys the sun. Draws strength and inspiration from the light, the heat. He's always favored long walks when he stumbles into a wall with his writing. The movement, the noise, the sun - they shake the words loose, illuminate the path he was seeking. But today - today he hates it. He wants to reach up and draw the clouds together, shroud the world in a veil of darkness. Wants the atmosphere to bend to his will and reflect his mood.

And hers.

Kate walks silently at his side, head up and hands shoved into the deep pockets of her jacket. The early fall wind whispers through her hair, the light brown burnished gold in the yellow light. He wants to reach for her. Wants to comfort her with his arm around her shoulder or his fingers twisted through hers.

But he won't.

Neither of them have said a word since they left the hospital. Castle wants to talk. Needs to. He needs her to speak. To cry, to rage, to beg. Something. Anything. He needs to help her and he can't do that until he has her words to build on, to give him direction. The feeling of utter uselessness has been sprouting in his chest for days, the roots curling around his stomach, branches growing out through his ribs. He knows he's being selfish in wanting to demand that she open up but, in her refusal, so is she.

They can't mourn separately forever.

Without warning, Kate veers off the sidewalk, walking with purpose across the sloping lawn. The grass crunches softly under her feet, the brown tips swishing against the soft canvas of her flats. Castle watches, squinting as she moves directly into the sun, shoulders and spine held in a rigid T. He stumbles after her when she drops down on a bench, his feet clumsy as he tries to get there as quickly as he can.

He needs to be close to her.

A large tree stands sentinel nearby, the low hanging branches dense with leaves that filter out the sun, casting the bench in a long, cool shadow. The chill of the wood seeps into his legs when he sits down, his thigh brushing the length of hers. She doesn't pull away, doesn't even acknowledge his presence. Slowly, he lifts an arm and moves it to rest along the back of the bench, the tips of his fingers brushing lightly over the soft cotton of her jacket. Tear tracks have dried on her cheeks, silvery lines that catch the light and break his heart.

Again.

"Kate."

Her body crumples when he speaks, the air rushing out of her lungs and deflating her chest. She leans into his side, one hand coming out of her pocket to clutch at the front of his jacket. Castle wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in, trying to get her body as close to his as he possibly can. He lays a gentle kiss to her hair, seals it with the press of his cheek against the top of her head.

Wishes it was enough.

"I wanted it, Castle," she hiccups. "I wanted it so much."

"I know," he replies, his free hand lifting to cradle her cheek. "So did I."

He hadn't been certain at first. The pain in her eyes when he'd told her he needed time to think about it will haunt him for the rest of his life. But he _had_ needed time. Needed to sit down and think about whether or not he truly wanted to embark on this particular journey at age forty-five. He'd spent days going over it in his mind, making frantic calculations and silently panicking. In the end, though, there was really only one possible answer.

Yes. He wanted to have a baby with her.

Three years and countless heartbreaks later, here they sit, their bodies still vibrating with the force of the final blow. Doctor Prince - a slight woman, her small body overflowing with compassion and kindness - had broken the news an hour before. The chances of them conceiving are astronomical, even with the powerful drugs and advanced technology. After three miscarriages and four failed in vitro fertilization attempts, the doctor had gently told them what they both already knew but had refused to admit.

It just wasn't going to happen for them. Not like this.

"We still have options, Kate. Surrogacy. Adoption." Castle brushes his lips against her forehead, smoothes his hand over the tiny flyaway hairs that flutter in the breeze. "If you want them, we still have them."

"I know." Kate tilts her chin up, looking directly at him for the first time since they left the loft that morning. The desolation and devastation in her eyes slices through him, leaves him aching and raw. "I know and we can talk about all of them later. Tomorrow. Next week. Right now, I just - I need today. Please."

Castle nods. He'll give her this. He'll give her anything.

Kate lets her head fall back to his chest, her fingers toying with the oversized buttons bisecting his abdomen. His eyes roam as he holds her and he realizes why she stopped. Why she chose this bench. Squealing laughs and sharp shrieks, the music of uninhibited joy, float over from the packed playground on the other side of the park. Sunlight reflects off the brightly painted equipment as the children run about, carefree and full of wonder.

Of hope and possibilities.

"I thought they'd have your eyes."

He thought they'd have hers.

* * *

**La Douleur Exquise** (French): The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can't have.


	7. Chapter 7

The words on the page bleed together; the carefully spaced lines of black stretching and morphing in front of her tired eyes. Kate blinks and leans back in her chair, yellow highlighter clasped loosely in her closed fist as she raises her arms over her head in a vain attempt to stretch out the knotted tension in her shoulders. Rolling her head from side to side, she nearly groans in pleasure when her neck cracks, the loud pops drawing the attention of a passing uniform. He nods at her and she notices the bags under his eyes, the thin line of his mouth, the rigid set of his spine. She tosses him a return nod and something she hopes looks at least vaguely like a smile.

Settling back over her desk, Kate shifts in her chair, leaning back and forth as she bends her legs, searching for a painless position. She knows she won't find one; the chair stopped being comfortable about five hours ago. Giving up, she trains her eyes on the open file, determined to find something, anything, of value in the stacks of so far useless data.

Four days. Four days, five bodies and absolutely no leads. No connections between the victims other than the way in which they were killed. The entire precinct is on this one, every available detective and uniform working around the clock. She hasn't been home in forty-eight hours, hasn't seen anything other than the inside of the Twelfth in eighteen. She's running on fumes, subsisting on massive amounts of caffeine and the take-out Castle keeps having delivered at regular intervals.

Castle.

Running a hand through her hair, Kate looks up, seeking him out. She'd stopped trying to send him home after the fifth time he'd flat out refused, his eyes dark and serious when he told her that he was on this, _in_ this, as long as she was. All she could do was nod and hand him a stack of financials, sending him off to join Ryan in the conference room. That's where she finds him now, his back curved into a twisted S as he hunches over the table, eyes glued to an open file eerily similar to her own. She can see him scraping the side of his thumb nail over the edges of the papers, a nervous habit that used to annoy her to no end. She's gotten used to it over the years, the once grating sound fading into the background, white noise that she now finds oddly soothing. It's a constant. Something she knows she can rely on. However small it may be, it's solid and unwavering, a static point in an otherwise chaotic situation.

Kate drops the highlighter on her desk with a sigh and pushes back, the wheels of her chair rolling smoothly over the clear plastic mat. Legs tingling, she stands, her spine creaking as the vertebrae try to slide back into place. Her fingers hesitate on the handle of her coffee mug, the porcelain cool against her skin. Gazing back through the glass, she watches Castle for another moment, trying to really see him. His hair flops down over his forehead and she aches to run her fingers through it, to watch his eyes slip shut as she smoothes it back, nails scratching over his scalp. The lines bracketing his mouth are pronounced, deep crevasses that make her worry. She has no idea when he last slept but judging by the dark circles under his eyes it's been longer than it should be. She watches as he scrubs a hand over his face, can almost hear the harsh rasp of his stubble against his palm. Tapping her nails against the rim of her cup, she makes a decision.

Castle jumps when she places a hand on his shoulder, her hip pressing into the back of his chair. "Hey." She smiles gently at him, thumb rubbing circles over his scapula. "Let's get out of here for awhile."

"We have a lead?" The question is quiet and raspy, his voice full of gravel from hours of dormancy.

Kate shakes her head. "No. Nothing new. But I think we both could use a little fresh air."

He peers up at her tiredly, the whites of his eyes stained pink. "Yeah," he agrees, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stands. Lacing his fingers together, Castle stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, groaning softly. She wants to step into him, wrap her body around his. Wants to let his arms fall down over her as she burrows into his chest, her nose pressed to his neck and hands fisted in the back of his shirt. Dropping his arms, Castle gives her a smile that falls far short of his eyes. "You ready?"

They head toward the elevator together, steps in sync and the backs of their hands brushing with each swing of her arm. Gates has known about their relationship for months, long before they ever confessed, and has made it more than clear that she'll tolerate it as long as they keep it well outside the workplace. Normally she'd insist on distance to avoid even the slightest hint of impropriety but today Kate just can't be bothered to care. She needs this. Him. The solid bulk of his body next to hers, comforting her with his mere presence.

The elevator opens on the ground floor and Castle guides her out, his broad hand splayed heavily across the small of her back, the heat of his skin seeping through her blouse and warming her aching muscles. His hand slides up her spine as they head away from the precinct, fingers wrapping around her shoulder when they round the corner. Kate leans into him, left arm lifting to curl around his waist as she sighs.

"You making any progress with the phone records?"

Kate shakes her head against his shoulder. "No case talk," she says, looking up at him and squinting against the glare of the bright spring sun. "For the next fifteen minutes, I just want this. You and me. Okay?"

Castle smiles and this time it reaches his eyes. "Okay." He kisses her softly, hand squeezing her shoulder. "I can do that."

They stroll down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, bodies pressed tightly together from shoulder to hip. Kate starts to relax, the combination of his touch and the warm afternoon softening the steel bands of her muscles. Closing her eyes, she orients her face toward the sky, lets the sun beat down on her skin, humming contentedly.

"You want some coffee?"

Kate hooks her thumb through his belt loop and shakes her head. "Iced tea?"

"Green?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Castle aims them toward the little independent coffee shop he knows she likes, his steps steady and sure. She lets him lead, happy to let go of responsibility for a few minutes, to just be. He orders for both of them, adding in a bag of pastries for the boys. She kisses him on the cheek for that, her heart clenching tightly. The depth of his compassion and generosity will never cease to amaze her. His hand slides to her neck as they wait, thumb dipping under the collar of her shirt, digging into the tense muscles. Kate pinches his waist, drawing his attention.

"I missed you."

"I haven't been more than thirty feet from you in three days," he says, eyes lighting up at her confession.

Kate lifts her free hand to his cheek, directing him in for a tender kiss. Her thumb sweeps over his bottom lip as she pulls away, tracing the curve of his smile. "Doesn't mean I didn't miss you."

The barista passes their drinks over the bar, the ice rattling against the plastic cups. Castle hands Kate hers before taking his own, the top of the pastry bag folded over his pinky, trapped between his hand and the cup. They head back toward the precinct, sipping their drinks in a comfortable silence, the white noise of the city sweeping them along.

Just before they round the corner, Castle stops walking, his hand tightening around her neck. Kate turns to look him, barely making out the smile dancing in his eyes before his mouth settles over hers. She pushes up on her toes, matching the intensity of his kiss, her tea trapped between their chests and her free hand lifting to his neck, fingers running through the fine hair at the base of his skull. Castle nips playfully at her lips, his sweaty glass bumping against her hip.

"I missed you too."

Running her hand around the side of his neck, Kate smiles at him, eyes tracking greedily over his face. She knows it will be hours, maybe days, before they have another moment like this. Another moment to enjoy the simple pleasure of just being together. She soaks it in, storing the feeling deep inside her chest, filling herself up with the smile on his lips and the love in his eyes. Leaning in, she presses one last quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, fingers toying with the placket of his rumpled shirt. Kate steps back, her hand lingering on his chest for just a moment, palm brushing over his heart.

"Come on, Castle. Let's go solve a murder."

* * *

**Retrouvailles** (French): The happiness of meeting again after a long time.


	8. Chapter 8

He gave her a red string on their first anniversary.

_It's the red string of fate, Beckett._

She still remembers the excitement on his face when she'd pried open the lid of the thin velvet box, her heart fluttering wildly in her throat. That look had always been one of her favorites. The way he'd tuck his lips in, his shoulders lifting in anticipation, uninhibited joy scribbled into the lines around his eyes. His spirit never ceased to amaze her. How he could pull light from the shadows, mold sorrow into happiness, give away so many pieces of himself that she sometimes wondered how there was anything left. She'd never loved anyone the way she loved him. Had never been loved the way he loved her. All consuming. Bright. Pure.

She never believed in fate. Never bought into the idea of destiny or magic or soulmates. Not even as a child. Fairy tales and happily ever afters were unimaginable to her endlessly pragmatic mind. She didn't want to be a princess. Never longed for true love's kiss. She just wasn't built that way.

Castle made her want to believe. Made her want to open her heart to the possibilities, embrace the unknown. She'd never accept his theories about ghosts or zombies or aliens but she could hold his hand on a sunny June afternoon, the red string twisting around her wrist with every swing of their arms, and entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, this was where she was supposed to me.

* * *

A ring for their second.

_Marry me, Kate._

Another velvet box, this one smaller and held in his trembling fingers instead of hers. A look in his eyes that stopped her heart. Three words that robbed the air from her lungs and the strength from her knees.

She'd collapsed next to him on the living room floor, the hem of her dress billowing as she hit the carpet, her hands already reaching for him. He'd gone to her willingly, the open box clutched between their bodies while she kissed him, her tongue sweeping over his and fingers twining through his hair. Tears adorned both their faces when they finally broke apart long enough for a whispered _yes_ to pass her lips when he slid the ring onto her finger. She'd clung to him as carried her to the bedroom, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, lips trailing hot kisses across the line of his jaw.

She'd awoken in the early morning light to find him staring at her, his thumb running over the delicate line of the platinum band, twisting it around her finger. He'd smiled down at her with so much love written on his face that for a moment, one all too brief instant, she could see the entirety of their future reflected in his eyes.

* * *

A son for their fourth.

_Joseph Alexande_r

Red faced and screaming, the nurse had placed him on her chest, his still slick body sliding over her sweaty skin. Castle brushed the loose hair from her forehead and pressed his cheek to hers as they stared at him in awe. This little life they created.

That night after all their friends and family had come and gone, after his cheeks had been kissed and his tiny back had been patted, they'd curled up in her bed with him, the blue blanket spread open across her raised knees. Joseph slept peacefully while she counted his fingers and toes, ran her palm over the soft roundness of his stomach, traced the lines of his face with the pad of her index finger. Castle had watched as she lifted the baby to her breast for the first time, breath catching audibly when he cupped their son's head in the palm of his hand as he suckled greedily.

Kate's eyes slipped closed as she covered his hand with her own and kissed him on the temple, the moment overwhelming in its perfection.

* * *

The papers arrived just before the ninth.

_Petition for Dissolution of Marriage._

They signed on a Tuesday.

She rejected his offer for alimony and he gave her the loft.

She never slept in their bed again.

* * *

He died two months after what would have been their fifteenth.

_Myocardial Infarction_

For her, the day had always remained theirs. The day she showed up at his door with rain on her skin and her heart in her hands. The day they finally became what he said they were always meant to be.

She sat in the front row at the funeral, their son's sweaty palm pressed tightly to her own as Alexis delivered a tearful eulogy, her pale skin pearled in the low light of the pulpit. Joseph sobbed into her side, his thin shoulders hitching violently. She tried to comfort him, tried to tell him it was okay, that they'd be okay. But he knew she was lying. That she didn't believe the words any more than he did.

From the moment she'd finally admitted her feelings to herself, Kate had known that she would love Richard Castle for the rest of her life. It hadn't ended with their marriage. He was indelibly inked onto her heart, her skin. He gave her so much in their time together; peace, love, joy, hope. A son with his father's blue eyes and easy smile. A son who loved his family, his books, and his dog. A son she hoped would grow up to be even half the man his father had been.

She tied a red string around his wrist before they closed the casket. She didn't believe in fate or destiny or magic. Didn't believe in soulmates.

But if she did, he would have been hers.

* * *

**Yuanfen** (Chinese): A relationship by fate or destiny. This is a complex concept. It draws on principles of predetermination in Chinese culture, which dictate relationships, encounters and affinities, mostly among lovers and friends. In common usage yuanfen means the "binding force" that links two people together in any relationship.

But interestingly, "fate" isn't the same thing as "destiny." Even if lovers are fated to find each other they may not end up together. The proverb, "have fate without destiny," describes couples who meet, but who don't stay together, for whatever reason. It's interesting, to distinguish in love between the fated and the destined. Romantic comedies, of course, confound the two.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. As always, your thoughts and comments are appreciated. _


End file.
